


She Can Wait

by Midnight_w0nder



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: All hurt no comfort, Emotional, Jaskier | Dandelion Whump, M/M, Major Whump, Sad Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, major death, old age jaskier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:09:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24812845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Midnight_w0nder/pseuds/Midnight_w0nder
Summary: Inspired by 'Fair' by The Amazing Devil.Jaskier spends winter in Oxenfurt after getting to old to follow his husband, Geralt. But he finally has found an end to his journey.**This is major major whump, do not read if you do not want your heart broken.**
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 7
Kudos: 77





	She Can Wait

**Author's Note:**

> Go listen to Fair by The Amazing Devil!
> 
> I didn't have a beta reader for this, so be nice please!

> "I am haunted by humans" - Markus Zussak 

It was their agreement. When Jaskier hit a certain age, he would spend winters in Oxenfurt.

Jaskier, of course, was not entirely pleased by this discussion. “I have followed you for...for thirty years, Geralt! I survived this long!” the bard protested, of course in response all he received was a ‘hmm’ and a soft kiss to the cheek.

“You asked me once, does a Witcher retire. And I said they get slow enough to get killed”

“Are you saying… Are you saying that I would get you killed?”

“Not me. Yourself. You survived this long, Dandelion. On luck”

“On skill, you bastard,” Jaskier huffed. It was true though, he did not care to admit to Geralt how his eyesight was definitely not what it used to be. How his joints clicked a little, how it got so cold at night. How his hair was now more grey then brown. He had grown a beard too in the middle of this, a nice beard. It gave him a more mature look, more hardened by his travels.

And so the agreement was made. That Jaskier would spend winter in Oxenfurt as a lecturer. If anybody asked, he would deny that he cried the majority of the ride to the city. And that Geralt at one point had to hold him in the mess of the forest, and let him listen to his heart until his own heart soothed. The tears still flowed. For the first time in over thirty years, Jaskier was to be separated by his love. His husband. He remembered the old language he had learned from years ago, and the one sentence he repeated to Geralt.

 _Grá mo chroí_. My love, my darling, my heart. He felt his heart whispering that every time Geralt looked at him. How his heart seized a little bit. Geralt of course had not aged, bastard. But he always moved slowly to match Jaskier’s pace. Never too fast, but never too slow to make Jaskier feel old. Somehow, they managed together. In their ways.

///

Jaskier did enjoy being a lecturer. He enjoyed influencing a younger generation of bards and performers, on educating them how not to get coned for their work, about what songs to perform when, about what to do if they found themselves married to a witcher.

“What’s he like?” one student asked. Jaskier looked at the student and smiled softly, touching his wedding ring.

“He’s hard, and he’s smart. He’s the better part of me, the one person who makes my soul sing. That, my dear children, is how you know you’ve found the one. The person who makes you sing, even when you don’t have a song. They make your soul sing” “And does he love you?” “I’d like to hope so, we’ve been married long enough” he snorted, looking at the portrait he kept on his desk of Geralt, of his wolf. The portrait was a favourite of his, it wasn’t done by a court master. No, it was a simple sketch a friend had done of Geralt tending to Roach one morning, just as the sunlight broke the morning haze, just when the world was so perfectly silent, and Jaskier’s heart swelled with nothing but love, for his witcher, his heart.

//

Jaskier did not tell anyone of the cough, or how at night he would be kept awake with nightmares. In the morning waking up in a sweat, his bones aching so deep inside him that the very thought of moving almost killed him. He knew a sickness had been going round, he knew it was killing people. Jaskier also knew he really should tell Geralt, but selfishly he did not. “He told me to come here because it’s safer and because I’m slow” he huffed as he dumped some hot water into the kettle looking at Esko the cat.

The cat purred in agreement, tilting his head. Jaskier had convinced himself that Esko was a human in fact cursed into the shape of a cat, what he had done to deserve such a fate he didn’t know. But was glad of the company nonetheless. “I’ll see the doctor, see what they say,” he continued. Esko purred back, hopping off the ledge and rubbing himself against Jaskiers leg, his long ginger tail extending up, whipping around carefully. “You’re a very dramatic cat,” he murmured, scooping him up and walking out to his decking to watch the sunrise. Perhaps, he thought, Geralt was also doing the same.

///

A student had contacted Geralt. The one who had asked what was it like to be married to him. No one had seen from Jaskier in days, which was not uncommon for the bard to remain unseen for a day or two, but after the fourth day people grew concerned. They knew he had not been well, and they thought perhaps now it was only fair to inform the witcher his flower was starting to wilt.

Geralt arrived in Oxenfurt faster than anyone had ever done so before. He charged into the house, expecting life but instead he found Jaskier huddled on a sofa. The first thing Geralt noticed was the chill in the house, it settled in his bones. He stalked over to Jaskier, his breath hitching. He prepared himself, he prepared himself to touch his dead lover. “Has winter ended already?” he asked, one eye popping open.

“I took a doze, Geralt. Why on earth are you here?”

“No one… No one had seen you in days, Jaskier.”

“Oh… Well. It was a brilliant nap” He mumbled, closing his eyes as he tried to shift. Geralt huffed a breath, kneeling next to Jaskier and touching his hand. “You are so cold, Jask”

“Strange. Imagine being cold in winter”

“No need for attitude,” Geralt chimed. Jaskier responded by sticking his tongue out and Esko the cat hissed. Geralt could feel death lingering at the doorstep. He knew that Jaskier had probably told death to fuck off, that he wouldn’t go until he had said goodbye. Geralt felt the lump catch his throat, and a sting in his eyes.

Jaskier, who was still firmly holding his hand, looked at him, tilting his head. “Tears?” he asked, touching Geralt's cheeks. “Why do you cry?”

“Jaskier…”

“I know. I can hear her, she’s at the door. I told her to wait her turn. I had to see you first,” Jaskier said, shifting so Geralt could sit closer to him, and he did. Geralt pulled Jaskier as close as he could, as if without his touch, he would disappear. “Only you would tell Death to wait” “How do you think I’ve survived so long? We talk frequently. She requests I write a song about her every time I escape” he explained with a smile. Geralt looked at his husband again, his eyes not bright as they used to be. “Is she nice?”

“Very. Toss A Coin is her favourite, she said my mother is waiting for me. And there will be a festival when I finally go, all for me,” Jaskier grinned, rolling over to look at Geralt properly.

“Will you miss me?”

“Like a farmer misses a drought”

“You ass”

“If I recall correctly, you’re a huge fan of that ass, so I don’t see the insult.” Jaskier snorted, looking at Geralt and kissing him gently. Geralt did not want to break the kiss.

“Will we do our goodbyes, Geralt?”

“Ja-”

“Geralt, wait” Jaskier said, rolling over to lift his lute and strumming. Geralts ears hurt ever so slightly as the sharpness, as Jaskier stumbled over chords, but then he found his rhythm, and then he started singing.

“ _It's what my heart just yearns to say In ways that can't be said It's what my rotting bones will sing When the rest of me is dead It's what's engraved upon my heart In letters deeply worn Today I somehow understand the reason I was born…_ ” And so Jaskier sang, his eyes closed. Death quietly opened the door.

“ _To press my head between your Shoulder blades at night when light is fading Just to let you know I'm old, waylaid and feels like I am wading into Carpet burns and carousels oh Christ you'll be the death of me And calm throughout his melodrama she Will turn and say 'dear heart It's me, its me…_ ” Geralt felt his eyes burn, furiously. This compared to no injury. The pain was raw like a whip to his heart. He sensed Death watching.

“It's not fair, it's not fair how much I love you It's not fair cos you make me ache you bastard And he'll say Oh how, oh how unreasonable How unreasonably in love I am with everything you do I'll spend my days so close to you cos if I'm stood here Then I'm stood here And I'll stand here I'll stand here with you..Wait,” Jaskier said, raising an eyebrow and looking at the corner of the room, holding up a finger. He played the last chord and then looked back at Geralt. “Bury me by the coast?”

“Of course”

“Visit my grave, every day. Or I’ll haunt you”

“I look forward to it”

“Geralt?”

“I’m here, dandelion. I’m here”

“Hmm, good. I’ll see you in our next life, Geralt”

“I’ll see you then, Jaskier” and slowly, Death kissed Jaskier’s head, and like that, the bard was gone. Death took him away. Jaskier stood for a second, looking at Geralt clutching his body. He swallowed hard, tears burning into his skin like acid. He looked at Death then back at his Witcher. He walked over, pressing a ghost kiss to his head and then finally leaving in silence. His heart, he had left it with Geralt. 

///

The years that Geralt spent without Jaskier was the longest in his life, every time he heard a song it made his heart wretch. It burned inside him painfully. It _hurt_. 

He remained haunted by the love of his song bird, a ghost in his head. The one who told Death she could wait, they were not finished with their life yet. 

And, as every love story goes, true to their word, they did find each other in the next life, though it took longer than Jaskier liked, Geralt found him. Their souls had sang to each other, apparently. And so the story was told by all the bards and poets in the world after that. Of a song bird who loved a wolf, and how they travelled the world together.

Of a Witcher who loved a human. 

Of a wolf who loved a song bird.

And how they told Death to wait. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry I did this, but at the same time it was so self-indulgent.
> 
> Come say hi on tumblr @Midnight-wonder
> 
> My inbox is always open!!


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